A Blizzard
by Shadow Valkyrie
Summary: A RaistlinDalamar slash fic, sequel to a story, included as prologue, by Skull Bearer and set in her alternate universe. You should read at least the beginning of her series first.
1. Prologue

The ficlet that is posted as prologue to this fic was sent to me by my favourite fan fiction author, the one and only Skull Bearer. (the valkyrie bows to the dark deity of Raistlin/Dalamar slash) -> My story is actually a sequel to it (originally written to cheer her up, but she kindly shares it with the public) and so she allowed me to post her work as well. Please, notice that the story is set in her alternate universe where Raistlin and Dalamar meet many years earlier, even before Raislin's test. Raistlin therefore spends his mercenary years with him, not with Caramon.

Disclaimer: We didn't invent Dragonlance and its characters, we only borrow them.

Warning: Slash. If you don't like that, don't read it. Flame for other reasons, if you must. I know there are some logic holes in my part. Have fun finding them...

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**Prologue: Unexpected  
**

Captain Madra was not in the best of moods.  
True, he had finally convinced that clogged-brained lordling that it would be in his best interests to tackle the incoming northern army in the mountain passes instead of waiting until they'd reached the grasslands where the invading army's main strength, that of numbers, could be put to it's full use- which had been the lord's initial idea! Despite the knowlege that his arguing had no doubt saved more than a few of his men's lives, his headache and the lordling's nasty little comments about demotion were getting to him.  
Well, let them take on the army using his plans instead of those of a self-important idiot who hadn't even the slightest tactical sense, and then they would see who was getting demoted!  
It was in this foul mood that Madra stormed down the castle's corridors, intent to getting back to the training area and maybe running a few of his men into the ground. That always got rid of his bad temper.  
But by all the vanished gods, his employer was an idiot.  
A muffled crash coming for behind a nearby door brought him abruptly out of his thoughts. Stopping, he stared at the closed door, then sighed. It led to a small space used for storing the servants' cleaning equipment.  
If he had a copper piece for every time he'd found one of his men in there with one of the housemaids, he'd have enough to /buy/ the invading army.  
It was a simple thing to deal with, interrupt the couple, shout at the soldier until his ears rang, and put him on half-rations and latrine duty for the week.  
Captain Madra took a deep breath and reached for the doorhandle, ready to storm in and let the air in his lungs out in a thundering roar.  
"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE-" Madra choked in mid-shout.  
He had been expecting to find a flustered maid and a red-faced soldier, usually half or wholly undressed, and while the positions were about right, the subjects most assurdly were not. In fact they were not even his men at all, but two mercenary mages who had signed on three weeks ago. Weird pair. He'd been opposed to letting them on at first, didn't trust them.  
He was not, however, expecting to find the two of them trysting in a broom closet. Trysting being a nice way describing how the Dark elf was taking the golden skinned human against the wall so hard they'd knocked over one of the mops.  
They had noticed him, they'd have had to been deaf not to when half the castle must have heard his yelling, but clearly they didn't care. In fact, he caught the red robe- what was his name, Raistlin? Something like that- shooting him a malicious grin before his lips became otherwise occupied with the Dark elf's neck.  
Madra backed out of the closet and closed the door behind him, leaning back against he opposite wall. He wondered what in the Abyss he was meant to do about this, the mages were not part of his army, they were mercenaries and so he couldn't met out any punishment, however much he might want to. They had nothing to do with him.  
Then he had a better idea, this was not his problem. He'd just walk on as if nothing had happened and pretend not to have heard or seen anything.  
It was quite obvious the two wizards would not be finished for some time, Madra thought, smiling, and unless he was much mistaken it would be lunch soon, and the lordling would be heading down this very corridor on his way to the dining rooms.  
Let him take care of this, after all, he had hired them.  
Chuckling, Captain Madra strolled on down to the training grounds.

Skull Bearer.


	2. A Blizzard

So here's where my story starts. It's dedicated to Skull Bearer and has been beta-ed, improved and approved of by her. (The happiness burnt out all of my higher brainfunctions -meager at best- for several hours.) This is my first attempt to write something rather graphic (in slash), so please be patient with me. It's also the first thing I post that's not humourous.

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**A Blizzard  
**  
"I'm so tired of that damn broom closet!" Dalamar said one morning. The mages were sitting at a table in the castle's spacious kitchen and drinking tea, while a bunch of busy maids and servants were scurrying to and fro around them, seeming not to notice them at all. "Either someone's already in there, or somebody wants to use it when we are in."  
"Or some stupid guard pokes his head in on a watch round," Raistlin added gloomily. He was no less frustrated than the dark elf.  
"So we either can't have sex at all, or we're interrupted, screamed at and kicked out," Dalamar summed it up.  
And it was true, there was hardly any place in the castle where they could be together undisturbed. With all the mercenaries recruited for the oncoming war, the quarters were overcrowded, even the stables contained more people than horses now. During the warm days of summer the two mages had sometimes snuck out of the castle walls and spent their nights in an orchard. Now it was winter and the world outside was covered in a blanket of ankle-deep snow -which wasn't exactly the best condition for making out. Raistlin sent a longing glance towards the door. Inside, it was smoky and stuffy and the lack of privacy threatened to drive him mad. Every look at his lover's enticing elven face only made it worse. Several times they had tried to wait till everyone else was asleep (which took forever in a common quarter) before getting the fun started, only to find themselves watched by several pairs of eyes within five minutes, anyway. That in itself was not a turn-off, but the prospect of having to deal with unwanted advances from the soldiers who owned said eyes was. So they had given up that idea and patiently waited till it was their turn in the broom closet.

The dark elf sighed, but then a sudden glimmer came to his eyes.  
"You've got an idea?" Raistlin inquired hopefully, secretly hoping it had nothing to do with the pantry, because that was full of rats and darker than midnight and it was impossible to relax while expecting the cook to come in any minute and scream at her highest volume.   
Dalamar grinned in anticipation. "I heard two of the men talk about a little cabin in the forest. One of them took a kitchen maid there and he said it was worth the trip, with a fireplace in it and a nice bed..."  
Raistlin frowned. "Whoever builds a house in a forest and then abandons it?"  
Dalamar shrugged. "Who cares? Maybe the former Lord kept a mistress there..." He fidgeted a bit. "Shall we go there?"  
Raistlin weighed the positive and negative aspects of the idea. The possibility of having a decent night's sex again after all this time, definitely won over the discomfort of venturing out in the cold. He allowed the well-hidden smile to come out and curve his lips. Dalamar grinned in response, causing some frightened kitchen maids to not look at them a little more carefully. They finished their tea and then lost no more time.

It was not as cold as they had feared, and the beautiful quiet landscape after weeks in crammed quarters made Raistlin feel relieved beyond measuring. Getting out of the castle without being suspected to be spies hadn't exactly been easy, but there were few things that two mages with spells of illusion couldn't manage. Now they were making their way towards the woods and only slowed down when the first trees hid them from sight. Dalamar suddenly stopped to tie his boot lace. That was at least what Raistlin thought. He was taught better when a snowball hit his shoulder. Dalamar jumped for cover behind a big oak and laughed at him. The red robe wouldn't take that. He conjured up a load of snow and let it drop on his lover's head. He grinned as this action was answered by a surprised cry.  
Dalamar stuck his face around the tree. "That was cheating!" the dark elf accused him, but Raistlin didn't pay his words much attention, so taken was he by the sight of his lover in disarray: black hair tumbled and spangled with snow, eyes sparkling and pale face flushed. It gave him the pressing urge to forget about the cabin and make the dark elf take him here and now against a random tree. Dalamar must have guessed that from his expression, because he stopped hiding and stepped forward to embrace the human mage instead.  
They kissed for several minutes, before Raistlin eventually found himself out of breath and terribly aroused, with his back pressed against rough bark that he could feel through his robes. He would have been more than pleased to simply let Dalamar's hands go on and rid him of more than just his cloak, but the thought of what this would do to his lungs stopped him. He already felt the familiar tightening in his chest. "Not here," he whispered into a pointed ear and put a restraining hand against the dark elf's chest.  
The black-robed mage slid a teasing hand up his thigh. "Sure?" he asked.  
Raistlin might have cried. "Of course not," he snapped, "but it's too damn cold!"   
Dalamar gave a disappointed little sound, but stepped back obediently. Then he picked up Raistlin's discarded cloak and put it back around his lover's shoulders, rubbing gently to help him fight the cough.  
Side by side they went back to the snow-covered path, hands entwined in a promise for later.

They walked several miles until Raistlin finally stopped. Breathing all the cold air hadn't been good for him and he felt tired. And he was a bit startled to find that the forest ended a few steps ahead of them. Dalamar blinked unbelieving at the meadows that rolled down from where they stood, forming a pretty valley all covered in white. There was no cabin anywhere in sight. Raistlin couldn't help laughing at the dark elf's disappointed face, though there was a similar feeling rising inside himself. Having spent all day on a vain quest for a bed and privacy, they were obviously forced to return even more frustrated than before. "Seems we've missed a crossroads or something," Dalamar finally said, his eyes daring Raistlin to mock him further. "We'd better go back now, so we arrive back at the castle before dark. They might lock us out otherwise."  
Raistlin only nodded. Downcast, they turned back and started walking again. "Too bad you can't conjure up a bed from somewhere," Dalamar muttered after a while, and continued, when Raistlin didn't answer, a bit louder, "Are you absolutely sure you don't want it against a tree after all?".  
He didn't get an answer, because suddenly Raistlin gripped his arm. "Dalamar? Didn't you notice?"   
The elf stood still and listened. "I can't hear anything!" he whispered.  
Raistlin bit his lip. "That is exactly the problem!" He saw the question in his lover's eyes. "There's no wind," he explained, "and it's darker than it should be this time of day. If I'm not entirely wrong, we're going to have a blizzard soon."  
Dalamar understood. "Come then, we must hurry!"

They followed their own footsteps back along the way, but it was already too late. The sky overhead seemed to darken with every passing second and the wind reappeared in all of a sudden, having grown up to become a storm that lashed the trees and sent their heavy load of snow down on the two mages. Dalamar's face was calm, but Raistlin saw the fear in his pale grey eyes. The world around them had become nothing but whirling snow and storm clouds in a matter of minutes.  
They reached the eaves of the forest. Raistlin was glad, because the trees hadn't offered any shelter, but rather threatened to drop something more than only snow. From here it was far less than a half-mile of open land between the mages and the castle, still Raistlin couldn't make even make out the silhouette of the tall building. There was nothing, only snowflakes. Exasperated, he lifted his staff. "Shirak!" he commanded. The flash of light blinded him and did not help at all. It reflected from the snow-filled air like from a brilliantly white wall. He commanded the light out again and squinted in a desperate -and futile- attempt to make out any landmark. It was hopeless. White in any direction, white in front, behind, right, left and above them. Even the ground was a flawless white, the snow now high enough to make walking hard and fall into his boots where it melted and chilled his feet. The force of the wind made every step a struggle. Standing itself was near impossible. The icy air sent red-hot needles of pain through his lungs and he coughed blood into the snow. Within seconds it was invisible, hidden by more and more snow. This, Raistlin thought, was the kind of storm that is said to kill people on their own doorstep, because they get lost and can't find their way home.  
The mage's mind was working fast and accurately. First he needed to make sure Dalamar and him would not get separated. He turned. A sharp pain shot through him at the shock of not finding his lover there. "Dalamar!" he called, but the howling wind drowned out his words.  
The human fought down the panic. There was no time to ask how that had happened. He had to find the dark elf and get them both to the castle. A spell... Was there a spell to find people? He searched his mind, but in vain. The only thing that came to him was a spell that helped to retrieve inanimate objects by attaching a sort of magic anchor to them, with which the caster could draw them to his hand. But Raistlin was absolutely sure this spell could not be used on living beings. He could use it to find the castle, though. And Dalamar? It was impossible to save himself and leave his lover out in the storm to die. Tears of rage streaked his cheeks, burning in the cold. Snow clung to his eyebrows and lashes and made it even harder to see. Furiously, he wiped his eyes. He walked a few steps in the direction they had come from -at least he guessed so, because all his footprints had been wiped out, as well as any trace of Dalamar. Raistlin called his lover's name over and over again, until his voice failed and the ensuing cough threatened to tear his lungs to pieces. 

What he was doing, he realized, was madness. He was useless if he froze himself to death. All those years of fighting himself and the hostile world around him would be lost. An uncaring snow storm would not do that to him, he decided. The castle could not be far. If he got there, he could fetch help. Dalamar's health wasn't as frail as his own and he would withstand the cold far longer. It was a painful decision, but it was the only reasonable thing to do.   
Raistlin fumbled for the spell components with his cold-numbed fingers, then he chanted the spell and felt the magic condense and warm him from inside. For the moment, he didn't care that it would drain him and leave him colder than before. He felt a little ball of energy form in his hand and took a deep breath. It was not exactly a long distance spell, but he had to try. He aimed in what he thought was the direction of the castle, imagined its hulking shape and granite-grey walls, then he sent his missile flying. It shot away trough the swirling snowflakes, unimpressed by the storm. After barely a meter it was out of sight. Only a thin blue line was still connected to Raistlin's outstretched hand.  
After several minutes, Raistlin was sure he must have missed. The castle could not be that far away. When the line reached its maximum range and still not hit its target, the line of energy sizzled and tore. A wave of cold washed over Raistlin, drowning the magic ecstasy away. He huddled into his cloak. Think!  
He had only power for two, maybe three more tries. After that he would run out of spell components as well. He was pretty sure he had aimed in the right direction, so he only turned a fraction left.  
Collecting the necessary power was harder this time, but he managed. This time, the anchor hit solid stone after a few moments and tied Raistlin's hand to the castle wall. Step by step, fighting stubbornly against the wind, he tugged himself along the blue rope. The spell was supposed to work the other way around, but Raistlin could hardly drag the castle towards himself.   
It had indeed not been far. He almost fell into the ditch before he saw the walls. He made a mental effort to cut the line, then he followed the ditch till he arrived at the drawbridge. He stumbled across it, only to be confronted with two guards, halberds crossed.   
"Where do you come from, wizard, and so suddenly?" one guard said, his tone indicating how much he would have liked to not let him in. "I can't remember you went out!"  
Raistlin knew that most of the men feared him and especially Dalamar, so he refused to show weakness now. "That is no concern of yours!" he hissed instead of an answer.

Fortunately, a tall man in a captain's uniform came towards them. "It's okay, Eric," he said, "he's been on an errand of mine. Come mage, we'll talk where it's warmer!"  
Madra! Thank Lunitari, Raistlin thought, following the other man into the guard room, my luck has not left me yet!  
Captain Madra had started to like the mages -mainly because he wasn't responsible for any of the mischief they caused. The mages in return had started to like Captain Madra, because he always closed the door without a comment when he found them in the broom closet and always looked the other way when they kissed in public.  
It was therefore no big surprise that he agreed, after a short interrogation on where they had been, to send groups of fours and fives to look for the dark elf. Raistlin was immensely relieved.  
"Where have you lost each other?" Madra inquired, finally.  
Raistlin explained the approximate distance and direction and went to change into dry robes. When he returned to the castle courtyard, the search party was just about to leave.  
The mage's cloak was still dripping wet, so he made to come along without it. Madra shook his head. "You'd better stay here. We won't want to carry two mages home! You can go to my quarters and prepare a fire and a bath there. I promise we won't return unless we've found your companion and he'll be in need of warmth then." Raistlin was too tired to protest much, and shamefully glad that he didn't have to face the still raging storm again.  
Mechanically, he did as he was told. A servant showed him to the captain's rooms. Dalamar's face hovered in front of him and when he noticed the fire was burning in the fireplace, he had no idea how he had started it.  
After Raistlin couldn't estimate how long, shouts from the hallway made the young mage jump up and run to see whether they had found his friend. Two soldiers, covered in melting snow, were holding the black mage's lifeless form between them. His hands hung down, spidery, limp. Raistlin's racing heart stopped for a moment, he could make no sound. His elven lover's inhumanly perfect face was a bluish white colour, the shade of death. His black hair resembled dead seaweed. In his soaked robes, he looked like he had drowned. Raistlin resisted the urge to clasp a hand over his mouth, to stifle the sobs that threatened to break out. But he pressed his arms to his sides. He would not be weak. He owed Dalamar that dignity. While he fought down any emotion, his face was outwardly as calm as ever.  
Madra made a soothing gesture. "Your friend is only unconscious," he said. Raistlin remained still, but his knees were shaking.

They carried Dalamar into Madra's quarters and laid him down on the hearthrug. A maidservant brought more wood to feed the fire and then went to fetch hot water from the kitchens. Raistlin undid his lover's robes and didn't protest when Madra helped him to strip the dark elf of the wet fabric. Dalamar was still unconscious, his breath shallow. They washed him with cool water first and only when the blue tinge had completely vanished from his hands and feet did they use warmer water. Obviously it stung on the frozen skin, because Dalamar began to shift uncomfortably and grimace. Raistlin let out the breath he had been holding when the dark elf's eyes finally fluttered open and fixed on him. He tried to speak, but all that came out, was a racking cough, that was painful even to listen to. Raistlin lifted him to a sitting position and wrapped his arms around the dark mage's chest. The white skin was frighteningly cold to the touch. When the coughing fit had ebbed away a bit, Raistlin and Madra carried the dark elf to the prepared bathtub. Dalamar groaned a little as the hot water enveloped him, but he seemed to know it was necessary, because he made no move to refuse. Raistlin washed his hair gently, filled with immense happiness that his lover was still alive. At the same time, the repeated coughing made him nervous. He knew how devastating that could feel, after all. What if the dark elf got pneumonia? Destiny had a sense of irony to it, sometimes, that Raistlin never failed to recognize. With the years passing he had even begun to expect it.  
He waved for Madra to hold Dalamar's body upright, while he went looking for some herbs and a mug to brew some tea. While the tea water was warming over the fire, Raistlin and Madra hauled the dark elf out of the bath and towelled him hastily, because he was shivering so hard it made his teeth clatter. Safely in the bed with several blankets tugged around him, Dalamar seemed to recover gradually. With a thankful smile he accepted the steaming mug, Raistlin held to his lips, but he insisted on drinking on his own after the first few sips.  
Madra watched them, his expression unreadable at the obvious tenderness between the two men. "What happened?" he asked. "How did you get separated?"  
"I must have stepped into a rabbit hole," Dalamar answered, his voice a strained whisper. He looked at Raistlin, they eyes locked. "I fell and when I got up you were gone. There was only snow and the storm was so much louder than my voice." He took a careful sip of his tea without ceasing to look into his lover's eyes. "I thought I heard you call one time, but I couldn't tell the direction and with my ankle sprained I wasn't able to walk. I thought the best thing would be to sit in the snow. That was warmer than the wind, after all. I only had to take care I wouldn't fall asleep until the storm ended and someone would come looking for me." A shadow crossed his face. "I was worried for you. It was my fault we had gone outside and I know how hard cold weather is for your lungs." He coughed himself, as in illustration, but it already sounded less painful and Raistlin helped him to some more tea. "When they came and found me before the storm was over, I knew you had made it back and sent them."  
"And then you fell unconscious, in order to frighten me nicely," Raistlin concluded teasingly. He wanted to kiss the other mage and he saw a similar desire in Dalamar's eyes, but that would have been rather impolite. Usually he wouldn't have given a damn for that, but after all it had been Madra's authority that had saved the dark elf's life.  
The captain, however seemed well aware what was going on and smiled genially. "I should pay the promised reward to the men who found you," he said. "The two of you can stay here overnight. Rest well!"  
Raistlin bowed and, which he rarely did, thanked Madra for his help.

After the captain had left, Raistlin seated himself next to the bed and watched Dalamar's pale but peaceful face on the pillow. The thoughts kept on revolving in his head, the same fear over and over again. How close had he been to losing his dark elf forever! The mere thought sent cold shivers down his spine. He was exhausted, but his mind was too busy to attempt sleeping.  
"Quite nice of Madra to give us his room for the night!" Dalamar remarked.  
Raistlin grinned. "Quite. As long as he doesn't demand a threesome in return..."  
Dalamar laughed, but ended up coughing again. Raistlin wondered whether Dalamar usually had the same feeling of utter helplessness while watching him cough. It was absolutely awful.  
"I'd never allow that," the dark elf warned, "I'm far too jealous!"   
"And you think I'm not?" Raistlin kept up his pretence to be light-hearted and tried hard not to show the anguish that was still eating him. They smiled at each other for a while.  
Finally, Raistlin took the half-empty tea mug from his lover's hand and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. The situation didn't lack irony, he noticed. Still, he drew back, ignoring his own longing for closeness, but slender white fingers caught him by the folds of his robe. "Wait," Dalamar croaked, his voice barely audible. "We are alone now. Wasn't that what we wanted in the first place?"   
Raistlin felt an almost painful stab of excitement. "Reading my thoughts again, are you?" he said, his own voice husky suddenly. "But we can't... you're in not state for that."  
Dalamar chuckled. "You are coughing blood all the time and it has never been an excuse from sleeping with me, so why shouldn't I want you, now?" He drew the unresisting Raistlin down to him and kissed him hungrily. The red-robed mage felt his restraints vanish. "Give me one moment," he said, as they broke apart, gasping. He looked around for anything they could use. His eyes fell on a small vial on the bedside table. He took it and opened it carefully. There was indeed oil in it. The mage made a face. "Whatever does Madra need that for?"  
Dalamar smiled. "The same thing that we do, I suppose," he suggested. "Maybe you were not entirely wrong with that threesome thing..."  
"Him, of all people," muttered Raistlin, then went to bolt the door. "I just decided that there's no way I'll let you sleep in here unguarded!"  
The dark elf had sat up in bed and now lifted the cover with an inviting gesture. "Good!" he said. "As long as you'll guard me from very, very close..." He trailed off coughing again and hastily slid back under the blankets. Raistlin knew he was supposed to unfasten his robes and take them off, while his lover watched eagerly.

With a malicious grin, he decided to make a show of the undressing. After waiting for so long, five more minutes would certainly not hurt. Slowly, he shrugged the red velvet down, first from his right, then his left shoulder, while the belt was still in place and held the robes tight around his waist. Still smiling he lifted one foot and put it elegantly on the mattress, tugging up the robes' soft fabric to rest on his bent knee and reveal a slender golden leg. Dalamar was breathing audibly. Raistlin pretended to open the belt with slow, thoughtful movements. Desire already veiled his lover's eyes. He threw the belt aside, but instead of letting the robes down, he turned his back, stretching with slow, catlike movements that made his tired muscles ache in protest, and caused the robes to slide from his elbows, where they had been caught, back to his shoulders. He threw back his hair and smiled over his shoulder. Dalamar's eyes were wide with astonishment, but Raistlin was glad to see his lover obviously liked it; the slight bulge that was starting to form in the right place of the blankets was proof enough. Raistlin withdrew the foot from the mattress and stood for a second, rich folds of red velvet loosely around him, enjoying the feeling of power that being wanted so badly gave him. But enough of that! Without further ado he let the robe slide down and turned around. Dalamar was still waiting, smiling and licking his lips appreciatively.  
Raistlin slipped under the blankets from the bottom, rubbing his body all the way up along the dark elf's slender form, checking casually that his feet were warm again. With one shoulder, he accidentally brushed past his lover's erection. Carefully, he closed one hand around it, at the same time licking his way up Dalamar's chest. When he arrived at the collarbones, he took his time, nibbling softly, all the time touching and teasing further down.

When Dalamar's panting breath told him the whole experience would not last very long if he went on like this, he stopped and stuck his head out of the cover. "Like it?" he whispered mockingly. Dalamar buried one hand in Raistlin's still-wet white curls and drew his head down in a passionate kiss. "Answer enough?" he asked back. Raistlin grinned and laid down at the dark elf's side, inviting him to take the initiative now. His lover was over him on his hands and knees immediately, kissing enthusiastically. But when he shifted his weight, in order to part Raistlin's thighs with one hand, the other arm gave way.  
"I'm sorry!" Dalamar whispered, making only a half-hearted effort to get back up. "I'm weaker than I thought." Another coughing fit took over and he rolled from Raistlin to his side. "Seems I'll not be doing much tonight," he said after the spasms had subsided, his hoarse voice apologetic in spite of his own disappointment.  
"Obviously," Raistlin stated dryly, not betraying his concern. It was indeed obvious that Dalamar would very likely collapse at any further exertion. But they were both still terribly aroused and he could not bring himself to leave this situation unremedied -not on the one evening in months where they had a genuine bed and a quiet moment.  
He smiled the most predatory smile he had in stock and assumed Dalamar's former position. "Relax and enjoy it!" he commanded, as his lover had told him so many times before when it had been him who had coughed for what had seemed like hours. Since no objection came, he snatched the oil-vial from its place beside the bed and covered two fingers in the shimmering liquid. Feeling a little uncertain, because they rarely did it this way, he kissed his way down Dalamar's chest. The elf shivered slightly -from exposion to the cold, probably, since goose-flesh was creeping up his chest. Raistlin pulled the blanket -one-handedly- over his own head and up to the dark elf's chin. With only the fireplace to light it, the whole room was pretty dark, so it was pitch black under the covers. The mage's fingers, still slick, found their destination anyway. He slid them inside, slowly, carefully. Dalamar's hips came up a little in response, so Raistlin entered half an inch deeper. Muffled moans told him this was appreciated.  
No more teasing, he decided and took his lovers cock into his mouth without hesitation -which was even more appreciated, according to the increasing volume of the sounds the dark elf produced. He sucked the upper part and rubbed the rest with his free hand. It was complicated to do so while his weight rested on the left elbow alone, because his right hand was still trapped, the two fingers inside reluctant to leave their tight and warm resting place. When he couldnt support himself anymore, the mage pulled them back suddenly, not to fall flat on his face -what, with Dalamar's cock still in his mouth, wouldn't have been very advisable. A short yelp of pain came from the dark elf, but simultaneously, the bitter-tasting little explosion in his mouth told Raistlin, that he couldn't have hurt him. Not more than the dark elf liked to be hurt, in any case. He needed air, Raistlin decided suddenly and freed his head from the blanket. He had hardly time to swallow and take a quick breath, before Dalamar insisted on kissing him once more. The dark elf's hands, that had firmly clasped the sheets, reached out to draw his head close, then slid down his chest and around his waist. Raistlin felt his on rapid breath catch sharply as his cock bumped against his lover's thigh. Dalamar's legs were still spread, knees drawn up on both sides of Raistlin's hips. His smile said, clearer than words, 'I'm ready, do it!' But the younger mage managed to keep himself back until he had applied some more oil.  
Five seconds later he stopped thinking altogether. The day's worries disappeared, burnt out in a red flash of lust.  
He came to himself a minute later, to find he had collapsed o his lover's chest. He felt incredibly weak, his muscles trembled from the strain and his lungs stung from breathing so fast, but he felt warm and happy and absolutely satisfied.

Raistlin still lay half-awake in drowsy contentment when a knock made him start. Carefully, readying a defence-spell in his mind, he got up and unbolted the door. His eyes narrowed in distrust when he recognized Captain Madra in the dark corridor. Perhaps you were right, Dalamar's mocking words echoed through his mind, but they failed to amuse him this time. The captain smiled inconspicuously. "Sorry for disturbing! I just forgot something..." He spoke quietly, not to wake up the sleeping dark elf. When Raistlin made no move to step aside and let him in, he continued, "I promised Lady Elaine a massage for tonight, but I forgot the oil here. It must be on the bedside table. Could you fetch it for me, please?" Raistlin was used to keeping his face impassive and so he went, picked up the vial, threw a quick, invisible cantrip to make it seem full again and handed it to Madra. The captain, still smiling, thanked the mage, bade him goodnight and disappeared down the stairs.  
Raistlin briefly wondered whether there was a Lady Elaine at the castle, but at least five women of that name came to his mind at once. He was to tired to wonder further, so he bolted the door again and snuggled back under the bedcovers, curling arms and legs around Dalamar. He listened to the other mage's regular breathing for a while, then he slept, more soundly than he had for a very long time. 

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(finished: Wednesday, 2nd August, 2006)


End file.
